


Flying by Night

by huldrejenta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: rs_games, M/M, Marauders' Era, Really really in love, Sirius is in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huldrejenta/pseuds/huldrejenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is unable to find the right words to tell Remus how he feels. Instead, he watches his friend, revelling in the peace being with Remus always gives him, from the sun rises until the stars have taken over the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying by Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Team Star at RS Games 2015. 
> 
>  

On weekends, Sirius wakes up before dawn, full of restless energy that pokes at him to get a move on. He shakes off the last remnants of sleep with an elaborate stretch before quietly rummaging through his clothes until he finds his jeans and the green sweater that snuggles around his shoulders. On silent feet, so not to disturb his sleeping room-mates, he pads to the windowsill and finds a comfortable position curling up against the chilly window. He leans against the frame with his forehead touching the glass, shaping tiny roses on the surface with his warm breath. 

His body might’ve woken him in a jittery call for action, but sitting like this, watching the star-strewn sky turn gently lighter until the final star slides from pale to invisible, he slips back into the night’s leftover calm. 

During the week, it’s different. 

Then, his friends begin their days almost as early as he does. Instead of sitting in the windowsill, he goes down to the kitchen for a cup of tea served by eager-to-please house-elves, or he steps outside for a taste of cool air and the feel of dew touching his skin. Sometimes the four of them go down to a still empty Great Hall for breakfast while the castle has yet to awake from its doze. It’s just them, plenty of scrambled eggs and some pumpkin juice underneath the enchanted ceiling. James drinks coffee for breakfast now. He’s pretended to like it ever since he saw an add in some magazine or other claiming coffee is the drink for men. Peter sticks to his sandwiches, and Remus drinks coffee because he actually enjoys it. 

Sirius can’t think of a better start to a newborn day.

Except – 

Except this. Weekend calm, muted daylight slowly climbing towards their tower in the quivering moments between night and day. 

Sirius shifts position with a light yawn, pulls his feet underneath himself and turns his back to the window. The others are still asleep. James’ legs twitch, and he mumbles something that sounds very much like “But I promise the cake is good, Evans.” Peter lies flat on his stomach with an arm dangling from the bed. And Remus... 

Remus has been snoring softly, now he turns over to his side and goes silent. He lies curled around himself like someone unable to escape his own thoughts. Even in his sleep, he hasn’t let go of the subtle frown between his eyes, the one that’s normally covered by warm smiles. The one people miss if they don’t know it’s there. He’s got one hand tucked away under his cheek, the other one curled around the top of his duvet. Older than his years and wiser than he should ever need to be, Remus is more than any of them a grown soul within a not-fully-grown body. And Sirius loves him a little bit more with every heartbeat.

Between wild moves on the Quidditch Pitch and the desire to be an Auror, Sirius wonders how exactly he’s managed to become such a coward. But admitting to his friend that he’s falling in love with him, takes a whole different kind of courage. One that he’s yet to find.

So instead he longs for restful weekend mornings, where he can sit on the windowsill and watch. Where he can sense, before it happens, when Remus’ eyes are about to flutter open. In those moments, he feels very certain that the best time of the day is in the morning.

~ 

On weekends, it’s never past noon when James or Sirius announces “I’ve got a _brilliant_ idea!" There’s a big heart and a clever brain inside Sirius with plenty of room, but they can’t possibly contain all the scheming and every plan that keeps bubbling up. 

During the week, his excess energy finds its boundaries in the form of classes and schedules and homework. Sirius might not be the most dedicated student. It’s hard to see the point when there is so much life to be lived outside of the classroom and he’ll pull an O without much effort anyway, but at least he’s usually there. What makes being in class tolerable, enjoyable even, is the many notes he and James keep passing back and forth, with the occasional contribution from Peter. Many a devious scheme has been plotted on pieces of parchment when they should’ve been studying the various uses for billywig sting or listening to the theory behind the Confundus Charm. In occasional fits of reflection, James asks questions on these notes, questions like _What do you think we’re doing ten years from now?_ or _What is love?_ Sirius deflects and doesn’t know how to reply.

Sometimes, Remus joins in on their epistolary ventures. He writes witty remarks that contrast beautifully against Sirius’ to-the-point opinions. Remus tilts his head a little bit to the left when he writes, holding the quill in a firm, yet gentle grip. His writing comes out nice and smooth, even on a pass-the-time-note during class, with perfect grammar and punctuation. 

It warms him up. Sirius watches Remus through his lashes, convincing himself that his watching is less obvious this way. A small smile tugs at Remus’ mouth. Sirius doesn’t know what brought it on, it’s a mystery that makes his stomach flip-flop. At that moment, when mellow ache cuddles and torments, Sirius finds that sitting still in the classroom is a not altogether horrible thing after all.

But still – 

On days off it’s even better. Daytime in the weekend means running around the castle, searching for hidden secrets and dramatic adventure.

Peter says it’s no wonder Sirius is drifting during the day, sometimes without a purpose, without a goal, since the sky shows no stars to guide him by. It’s a reasonable thing to say, Sirius supposes, when observing his lack of peace. But he knows that he isn’t as restless as he could’ve been, as he would’ve been without Remus there as a grounding force. An anchor for the easily bored Sirius, without even trying to be one. 

Sirius is never more aware of this than at Hogsmeade weekends. Hogsmeade is Zonko’s and Honeydukes and flirting Rosmerta into serving them Firewhiskey when no one’s watching. 

But most of all it’s Remus. It’s Remus in that broad middle-of-the-day light, trudging alongside his friends as autumn-coloured leaves surrender to the oncoming winter and land softly around their ankles. It’s the sun painting his hair golden and highlighting the sprinkle of tiny freckles on his nose. It’s the flicker of joy in Remus’ eyes, never stronger than during a Saturday in Hogsmeade, as the four of them walk together. A flicker that says Remus is still amazed to be included in this unit of closeness and intimacy. 

Sirius wants to remind him, always, that of course he is included, of course he is a part of their group, until Remus takes it for granted. And after that, Sirius still wants to be there, making certain that Remus doesn’t have to live through a single day without being told _I love you_. Without being reminded how remarkable he is. Without knowing how much Sirius needs him.

In these moments, Sirius is certain that the best time to know Remus, to be amazed by all the joy and good and love Remus brings to his life, is in the middle of the day.

~

At nightfall, Sirius goes flying.

Not every night. Sometimes there are pranks to plan or detentions to sit through. But whenever he finds the time, he puts on a scarf and his warmest jumper, picks up his broom and walks outside with purposeful steps. Some nights James will join him, and it’s wonderful, they lose themselves in fiery flight and the all-consuming thrill of no-holding-back. Those nights are wild. Breathless. Intoxicating. 

A few times, the four of them have all gone flying together in the night. James will take the lead, shouting his battle whoop into the chilly air. Peter is never far behind, he’s a decent flyer and enjoys a good chase. Sirius will let them take off. Because that means forming the rearguard, with Remus, underneath endless stardust.

The two of them make a habit of it. On evenings when James would rather go Lily-hunting and Peter attends the Gobstones Club, the night is wondrous and mighty and theirs. Sometimes they fly, but just as often they find their thrills elsewhere. A few times they head up for the Astronomy tower. Remus unwraps a bottle of some sort, pouring them hot Darjeeling tea from the kitchen, even though Sirius knows he’d prefer coffee. “It’s a thermos,” is his reply to Sirius’ questioning look. “It’s a Muggle way of keeping drink warm.” Remus is full of Muggle oddities, and Sirius refrains from making sarcastic comments about how there are perfectly reasonable magical ways of keeping tea warm, like he would’ve with anyone else. “Moony,” he says instead, smiling, trying to explain everything he can’t say in that one word.

At nightfall, Sirius realises he’s been wrong. Knowing Remus isn’t best in the early morning or in the heat of the day. Remus makes his life better, there’s not a second ticking by without Sirius savouring his presence, and he doubts there ever will be. But never more so than when the sun has given up for the day and left the sky to infinite stars. 

It had been the weirdest thing that night a few months ago, discovering that he was falling for Remus. 

They hadn’t been flying, but there were trees and stars and cold cheeks, and Sirius had never felt more weightless than in that moment. Elbows and hands bumped into each other as they were walking, neither of them saying much. Sirius wondered how come he hadn’t realised long ago how he felt about his friend.

It’s been a while now. If only he weren’t such a coward. 

But tonight – 

Tonight, as they put their feet on the ground after a quiet flight, somehow the air changes between one breath and the next. Maybe it’s the night breeze or the brighter-than-usual evening sky. Or maybe it’s the way Remus slumps forward with his shoulders hunched. Most of all, Sirius thinks afterwards, it’s simply having used all restraint available. 

It’s recognizing the wonder in Remus’ eyes as his own.

It’s standing close to Remus beneath a million stars, feeling the warmth from his body in the frosty night.

Now – 

Now, he slowly lifts his hand, letting his knuckles brush against Remus’ cheekbone.

Sirius’ breath gets stuck somewhere between his lungs and his mouth as he leans in halfway, waiting for Remus to cross the rest of the distance.

And so he does – 

– and in this moment, Sirius no longer doubts the answer to what love is, the question that James had once passed him on a note during Transfigurations.

The answer is easy. Because love is Remus.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are very much appreciated <3  
> I'm also on [LiveJournal](http://huldrejenta.livejournal.com/profile/) and [Tumblr](http://huldrejenta.tumblr.com/) :) Feel free to say hi!


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